I’d found Ahia by accident, checking out stories of a “child of the moon and sun” in the north of this continent. What I’d found hadn’t been a Nephilim, but an angel—an Angel of Chaos.

  I’d kept my mouth shut, not even letting Gabriel know about her existence. I’d also kept my true nature a secret from her until my last visit, when Ahia finally connected the visits from a shaman of neighboring native tribes, a shifter, a gold rush prospector, and a fisherman and called me out. I’d told her who I was, but never revealed who she was. Ahia believed herself to be a Nephilim, an Alaskan native, and a member of a werewolf pack. It wasn’t my place to disrupt her life.

  It was one of the reasons I was so pissed at Gabriel for outing Eden. The woman was just beginning to explore who and what she was. She didn’t need some asshole shattering her world and yelling at her about a parentage she’d had no control over.

  Eden.

  I’d loved her the moment I’d seen her in my bar, fighting a group of shifters and begging me to help her family. It wasn’t just the siren’s call of her unique spirit-being, of her ridiculously overpowered and locked-away powers. Everything about her shone with a light of protective fury. She’d do anything for those she loved—kill for them, die for them, barter her very soul for them.

  It had been a long time since I’d seen such conviction, and it had been intoxicating. I wanted her. And more than that, I wanted her to look at me with the same love she felt for her family.

  But millions of years had taught me that love could be a fleeting thing, and that I should not pin my hopes on this fantasy. So I’d scowled at her, quote her my price, and tried to make it just another job.

  It hadn’t been just another job. And Eden had been far from just another client.

  Which was why I was scouring Alaska, looking for a werewolf pack with a Nephilim named Ahia.

  I finally found her at a dive bar in Juneau called Fjords Landing. The place was dimly lit, grimy, and filled with shifters. Ahia was at the back of the bar, doing shots with a grizzly and a female wolf with flaming red hair.

  Her eyes widened when she saw me. “Bishop? Holy shit, I haven’t seen you since the Russians were here. When was that? 1820? 1840?”

  “1820,” I admitted, turning to smile at her friends. “Hi. I’m Bishop.”

  “This is Karl and Sabrina,” Ahia introduced me before turning to shout at the bartender. “Arnold! Get Bishop a shot! And another round for us!”

  Arnold was another werewolf. He brought a tray with four shots, then sat the bottle at the end of the bar, telling Ahia he’d just put it on her tab. We clinked glasses, downed the alcohol, then took a few seconds to savor the burn.

  Sabrina’s gaze went back and forth between me and Ahia, then she elbowed Karl. “Thanks for the booze, Ahia, but we need to get going.”

  Karl grunted and left without a word, Sabrina following behind him and mouthing that she’d call Ahia later.

  “So, what’s up with this unexpected visit, Bishop?” Ahia grabbed the bottle and filled our glasses.

  “I’ve just heard you were recently made aware of your true nature, and that you’re now on the Ruling Council.” I wasn’t sure about either of those rumors. It had only been a matter of time until Ahia found out she was an angel, but the Ruling Council? Those spots went to powerful angels who’d politicked their way up through the various choirs in Aaru, not a random post-war offspring that had been living with humans and shifters her whole life.

  “It’s true.” Ahia eyed me. “You’re not surprised I’m an angel?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve been here ten thousand years. I’ve seen some things.”

  She laughed. “I’ll bet you have.”

  “How’d you manage the Ruling Council position?” I asked as I brought the glass of whiskey to my mouth.

  “I’m fucking the archangel Raphael.”

  I nearly spit the whiskey out. Ahia laughed as I coughed and thumped my chest.

  “Seriously,” she said. “He showed up for some angel-business, outed me, and we fell in love. He weaseled me a spot on the Ruling Council. He’s good at that. Weaseling, that is. I swear he’s more of an Angel of Chaos than I am sometimes.”

  I’d heard that about the archangel Raphael. “I’m actually here hoping to get some information.”

  I told her about the situation in New Hell as we drank whiskey, about the murder of Doriel, about the increased fighting and violence, about the factions dividing New Hell, about the desperation of the humans and shifters. Ahia had always been protective of humans, having lived as one for most of her life. I was hoping she’d feel sympathy for what we were going through south of her, and be willing to spill some confidential information at least.

  “Do you need help fighting?” she asked when I was done. “Raphael and I have a lot on our plate, but I feel bad that you all were hung out to dry like this. We can come down for a week or two and help clean house.”

  It was a generous offer, but with the number of demons in the LA area, extra help for a few weeks wouldn’t do more than put a small dent in our problem. We needed a way to solve our own problems, long term.

  “I might eventually take you up on that,” I said, just in case the situation got dire. “But what we really need is the Iblis. No one has been able to tell us where our current Satan is, or what her intentions are regarding New Hell. Does she plan to replace Doriel? Is she comfortable with what’s going on right now? I need to know if this is going to be our future, or if we can expect her to come in and help support some stability in the territory.”

  Ahia shifted her weight from foot to foot, pouring herself another shot and downing it before responding.

  “I can’t…we’re not supposed to talk about it.”

  I tamped down a surge of frustration. “I understand confidentiality issues, but this is personal for those living in New Hell. The Fallen who was supposed to be running things was murdered, and honestly she was pretty damned useless before she was killed. We deserve to know where the Iblis is and what her intentions are.”

  Ahia glanced around the bar then leaned in closer. “She’s gone. Poof. Vanished. She’s not in Hel. And she sure as fuck isn’t in Aaru.”

  I frowned. “Dead?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know if you’re aware that she and the archangel Michael are mated. He’d be a wreck if she was dead.”

  “And he’d be downright psychotic if she’d vanished,” I pointed out. “So I’m guessing he at least knows where she is and isn’t sharing that with the rest of the Ruling Council.”

  Ahia nodded. “We all have our guesses. Raphael and I think it has something to do with the fae, but beyond that we’re as much in the dark as anyone else.”

  “So there won’t be any immediate help from that quarter,” I said, thinking that even when the Iblis returned, we still might not be able to count on any help from her.

  “Is there anything the humans can do to fight back against the demons?” Ahia asked. “There are a lot of shifter packs in the area. Together they might be able to force the demons away from a decent enough sized area to give the humans and shifters an oasis in the shitstorm.”

  I thought about that for a bit. “There are too many demons, and the area has already been claimed by those with power and sizable households to help them hold on to that power. We might be able to force them out of a small town, but we’d spend the rest of our lives having to defend it. And we’d be vulnerable to a siege. No, we need a longer-term solution.”

  “Then you need magic,” Ahia said. “Outside of a very powerful demon willing to exert their influence over the others, the only thing they’ll respect is magic. If you had one sorcerer, even a Fallen would think twice before attacking their city.”

  “We’ve got mages in the city, but they’re loosely affiliated at best,” I told her. “I wish we had a sorcerer on our side.”

  “If you can get the mages working together, you might be able to secure and hold something the size of Burbank,” Ahia said. “But there needs to be a combined effort, otherwise they’ll just pick the mages off one at a time. Everyone is stronger working together—even demons.”

  It was such a shifter mentality, but then again Ahia had been raised in tight-knit native communities, and spent the last few centuries with a shifter pack. Still, her comment gave me an idea. We were stronger together. If we could manage to splinter the demon households and alliances, and gather our most powerful into a joint effort, we might have a chance of winning this war.

  Chapter 12

  Eden

  I parked in the lot beside a Honda minivan that looked as if it hadn’t been washed since the turn of the century. Every time I came here, there were a few more potholes in the asphalt of the lot, and a few more boarded-up windows in the other strip mall stores.

  The familiar burn of the security spell swept through me as I walked in the door. Alfie was helping an elderly man who I assumed must be the owner of the van. I smiled in reply to the bookstore owner’s nod, and headed to the rows that I knew contained grimoires and texts concerning mages and sorcery.

  Basic summoning. Elemental magic. Herbal gardens. Necromancy. Maybe I should have asked Addy a bit more about her particular branch of illusion magic before I’d come here. Would Alfie allow me to return a spell book if I bought the wrong one? I would hate to come home with an expensive tome only to find out Addy had no experience with those sorts of spells.

  “Hello Eden. What a pleasant surprise.” Alfie came around the corner only to jerk to a halt, eyeing the book on necromancy in my hands. “Uh…you don’t want that. I can’t in good conscience sell you that.”

  “Oh it’s not for me.” I stuck it back on the shelf, pretty certain it wasn’t for Addy either. “I know a mage who lost all of her spell books. I’m thinking of bringing her by in a day or two so she can maybe replenish her library.”

  Alfie rubbed his hands together with an eager smile. “Wonderful. Send her on in.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Addy probably didn’t have enough money to buy more than the cheapest of his stock, so I instead switched to conversation to a more pressing topic.

  “I was hoping you could give me some information about the three demons who seem to have split New Hell between them. Itinder, Barstonel, and Desiree.”

  He pursed his thin lips. “Barstonel is one of the Fallen. Groneski’s Infernal Peerage should have a decent section on him.”

  Alfie turned and I followed him down another aisle of bookshelves. Stopping midway, he pulled a giant tome off the shelf and handed it to me.

  “Is there anything on the other two in here?” I didn’t feel like spending the money for this doorstopper just to read about one demon.

  “If they’ve ever been a member of a Fallen Angel’s household, then they should be in the index.” He took the book from me, went to the front counter, and opened it up.

  I peered at the miniscule typeface as he ran his finger down the index. “Itinder originally belonged to Asag’s household, but left after five thousand years of service. He was briefly in Haagenti’s household, but after two hundred years he left and formed his own small group. After a century-long blood feud with Misorol, he killed his rival and assumed his household, rising in the ranks to level five.” Alfie looked up at me. “The book won’t have anything on him after that since he’s not considered one of the Fallen and is only at the fifth level in the hierarchy.”

  “Interesting stuff, but none of that really helps,” I complained. “I need to know about his strengths and weaknesses, and how to defeat him. Blister said he has a two-thousand demon army at hand. How do I kill two thousand demons and the plague demon who leads them without dying?”

  “I have some books on military strategy during the angelic war, and another on major demonic feuds. Those could give you some ideas,” he said.

  Great. More books. “I’ll pass on that, thanks.”

  Alfie shrugged. “Suit yourself. Do you want me to look Barstonel up?”

  I nodded. Might as well since Alfie seemed to be letting me have this information without making me buy this book.

  He flipped through the pages. “Barstonel served in the angelic war under Samael. Originally he commanded twenty-thousand demons, but after the Fall he went dormant, so the surviving members of his household went elsewhere.”

  “Dormant?” I frowned, wondering if this was some Rip Van Winkle thing, or if Barstonel had just flounced off to pout somewhere.

  “Samael vanished soon after the Fall, although he was rumored to be seen here among the evolving humans roughly fifty thousand years ago.” Alfie’s shoulders slumped and his eyes focused on some distant point over my shoulder. “Those were dark times. For so long most of the powerful Fallen slept. Those who remained awake interbred, creating the demons. Hel…Hel was a pit of chaos and violence. The elves had their territories. The demons had theirs. The dwarves had theirs. Then something shifted about a hundred thousand years ago. The demons remained ruled by chaos, but some order now stabilized their society. They began to interact with other races in Hel—and to sneak through the gates into this world.”

  I was fascinated. And I was sure that none of this was in that fat book on the counter. “What do you think happened? What changed?”

  He shook his head, as if clearing away the memories. “No one knows. But slowly the sleeping Fallen began to awaken. There was commerce. Vows were once again considered binding. The demons evolved, although the angels would say they devolved. In the last few years, change has occurred at the speed of light, but then again, that’s what happens when an imp holds the Sword of the Iblis.”

  “The new Satan,” I commented.

  “The gates to Hel are open. Demons rule a portion of the human world. And for the first time in nearly three million years, Angels of Order are bonding with Angels of Chaos—and demons as well.”

  None of that had turned out so well for the humans, but I wasn’t about to rain on Alfie’s happy-parade, so I kept my mouth shut about that.

  “Is there anything else about Barstonel?” I asked.

  “He lives for conflict and battle.” Alfie skimmed the text. “He’ll never refuse a challenge for single-hand combat. He keeps his vows and promises, and is honorable when beaten in battle or in a duel. After a hundred years here in the eleventh century, he returned to Hel, so I’d assume his preferred fighting methods would be very dated.”

  “Then he wouldn’t be expecting things like guns or grenades, or trucks and attack drones,” I mused.

  Alfie smiled. “Don’t count on that. Even if he remained in Hel, he might have received information from those who’d crossed the gates. Plus, he’d be knowledgeable about magic and the sorts of weapons a sorcerer might employ.”

  * * *

  “Anything on Desiree?” I asked.

  Alfie shook his head. “Lots of demons who have resided here for extended periods of time change their names. If you know her other names, I might be able to find something.”

  I didn’t know her as anything but Desiree. I vaguely remembered Bishop mentioning something about her name change, but I really didn’t want to talk to him about Desiree—not when I believed that they had history together. There were times when I preferred to shove my head in the sand and ignore a potential conflict, and this was one of them. I loved Bishop. And deep down I was afraid that me finding out the details of his and Desiree’s former relationship might take a lot of the shine off that love.

  But there was one more thing I did want to know about.

  “How about dragons?” I asked. “Some orange dragon has taken up residence downtown in a mall known as The Bloc. He’s got a pile of goodies in the courtyard and is incinerating or eating anything that comes close to him or his hoard.”

  “Well, that is unfortunate,” Alfie said cheerfully. “I’d advise you and anyone you care about stay away from downtown.”

  I waved my hand. “I figured that out myself. What I want to know is if I can leverage this dragon in any way. Can I cut a deal with him to help me take out these other demons?”

  “I’m sure I have something on dragons.” Alfie headed down another aisle of books while I trailed behind him. “Ah. Here.”

  He handed me another giant doorstopper of a book, this one a foot long, ten inches wide, and about seven inches deep. I nearly dropped it.

  “This will tell you everything you need to know,” Alfie announced.

  I glanced at the book, despair pooling in my stomach. “Any chance of a Cliff Notes version? Dragons for Dummies? An executive summary?”

  “Nope. It’s three hundred dollars, but I’ll give you a discount and let you have it for two-ninety.”

  I glared at him. “Ten bucks? That’s your discount?”

  “Since you’re referring your mage friend here, I’ll let you have it for two-fifty,” Alfie offered.

  “Twenty bucks,” I countered.

  He gasped, clutching his chest. “That’s insulting. Two-twenty.”

  “Thirty.” If he didn’t come down considerably in price, then this purchase wasn’t going to happen.

  “One fifty, and I’ll let you make payments,” he said.

  I hesitated. Then I pulled the contents of my pocket out and counted it. I had seventy-five bucks on me, and I knew there was another hundred back at the house. Vulture jobs had become a low priority the last week, and I was a little nervous about my dwindling finances. Did I really need this book? Did I even have time to read the fucking thing? And was the dragon even going to be of help, or would I spend time and money only to find out a bunch of random, useless facts about the creatures?

  As always, I went with my intuition.